Valkyrie Profile: Hermione
by CountMichael
Summary: Hermione's one. And she also puts into motion events that eventually make Harry and Tom wuv each other. Harry/Tom, Valkyrie!Hermione, OCs, Einherjars, etc. Slash! Maybe Oneshot.


A/N: I got bored, to put it simply. This probably would not be continued, or not, whatever. I just had to put into words the idea.

Author: Michael, Date Written: The 31st, August

--

Hermione was powerful, and creative, and resourceful, and a quick thinker. She always comes up with the most plausible solution, Harry thought, rather scathingly, but not for reasons of envy.

The Horcruxes were, no matter what Dumbledore said, indestructible, for reasons that Harry would now iterate.

First, they, Harry, Hermione and Ron, had found out, after a short visit to Devon, that the Dark Lord had had Dementors suck the life out of Nicolas Flamel, taking the Sorcerer's Stone from the mantelpiece in Perenelle Flamel's parlor. Through some stroke of genius Hermione had deduced that Voldemort had decomposed the Sorcerer's Stone into a Panacea, which he then used to cover the rest of the Horcruxes—all except the diary and the Gaunt ring. Hence, Ron could not stab the locket and Neville Nagini, with Gryffindor's venom-lined sword, and Hermione Helga Hufflepuff's cup with the basilisk fang, because the Panacea's restorative properties prevented the venom from breaking the souls within.

Second, through another epiphany Hermione also discovered that the Dark Lord had perfected the idea of the Horcrux based on a Muggle game called "Dungeons and Dragons". According to her, Voldemort used runic rituals from ancient Lichs to strengthen the Horcrux. Phylacteries, they were called, and they were imbued with special properties. A little magi-genetic cross-referencing and Hermione saw that Voldemort used a very powerful _Congelo_ spell variant and used the most frigid catalyst one could ever find in the Magical World—Dementor's blood—to seal a permanent runic code into the Horcruxes, one that induced stasis on any spell that hits it. It was because of that that the Horcruxes felt cold to the touch. It was also because of that subzero magic coat that protected it from even the most Dark of destructive curses. Fiendfyre dissipated in its presence, simply put.

Isn't he a sly bastard, Harry thought.

There was hope yet, for, to Harry and Ron's surprise, Hermione just flipped one day after Voldemort attacked a very Muggle town, and transformed. Harry thought the world had gone mad the second Hermione sprouted wings and changed clothes like some Japanese cartoon, all in a sequence of dazzling and over-the-top light.

Hermione, suddenly noticing Harry's terrified sputtering shortly after Ron's fainted body hit the ground, sighed and moved quickly to explain.

It was a good thing the tent they used to sleep in between days was spacious, otherwise the tassels and draperies would have tangled around Hermione's effervescent wings.

Harry stared at them like prey would at an anglerfish' lure.

Hermione coughed and then proceeded to explain.

"Harry, I haven't been entirely honest with you all these years. You see, I'm--"

"A Valkyrie."

Hermione gaped dumbly at Harry's sudden, calm, _correct _response.

"You know? How do you—"

"I'm not an imbecile, 'Mione. The wings, the winged helmet, the winged boots—it just screamed Valkyrie to me. It's ok, I accept you despite the demi-godliness."

Hermione promptly thought how in Merlin's beard Harry connected her attire's "wing-yness" to the idea of a Norse-Icelandic battle maiden, but quickly brushed it off.

"Oh, Harry! I knew you'd understand!" she exclaimed as she threw her hands—and wings--around the young man's neck. Harry choked on some feathers, which he found surprisingly soothing to the throat.

After being released he grinned and said, "Now try explaining that to Romeo over there. He's had it bad for you since ages ago!" Harry said lightheartedly, but they both knew Ron would be a serious problem.

"I'm not supposed to be romantically attached to anyone, Harry. Odin's orders."

"I guessed that. Maybe you could turn him into an Einherjar?" Harry suggested amicably.

Hermione's face lit up. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! And I'll send him to Asgard immediately. Of course, they don't accept cowards over there, but I'll just use his belonging to Gryffindor house as an excuse!"

Harry laughed, like they were talking about a joke instead of sending a person's soul to the afterlife.

"And that was why you knew these things about magic and stuff?" asked.

"Pretty much. I dare say Voldemort used some pretty obvious magic to protect the Horcruxes. They are good, but there is one major flaw."

"And what is that?" Harry inquired as he took a blade and slit Ron's throat.

"That he spent so much time preventing the object's destruction that he forgot about the soul." Hermione said, matter-of-factly. Harry tilted his head to the side, and Hermione looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But isn't it that the soul inside could only be destroyed by irreparably ruining the object?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but there is an alternative, Harry. The soul cannot be destroyed, but it can be transferred." Hermione said slowly. Comprehension dawned on Harry as he wiped Ron's blood off his hands using Ron's Christmas sweater, the same maroon one Molly gave him during their first Christmas at Hogwarts.

"Oh! A soul transfer! You, a Valkyrie, sent by the Norse God Odin to collect souls can, well, _transfer_ souls from one place to another, can you?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "That was why I needed to reveal myself to you, Harry."

Harry frowned then. "Then you were sent to help me defeat the greatest Dark Lord of all time? You're not really my friend?"

Hermione cooed and hugged a teary-eyed Harry. "Oh nonsense, Harry! I'm not even supposed to be interacting with humans I'm not going to turn Einherjar, and yet here I am helping you! Harry your destiny has been written up in Asgard, and believe me when I say that it's something you would not expect. I was supposed to be looking for Einherjar, but I stopped for a while because I encountered you. I did not come here because Odin ordered me. Hell, he and Freya are probably rolling in their thrones because of the lack of warriors I'm sending!"

"Oh," Harry said, "Ok."

"But Harry, Voldemort is a very powerful wizard. His soul cannot be transferred to another object. Instead, it could only be returned to the original body. After that, he will be mortal, and you will be able to vanquish him."

"I see…" Harry frowned again, thoughtful.

"In fact, we could unleash his soul pieces now." Hermione said, levitating the cup, the locket, the diadem on its dais, and a bound Nagini. Harry took the liberty to spell away Ron's remains and set up the table in the middle.

The demi-goddess put the phylacteric vessels onto the table, and then used Runic symbols from the ether to surround the table. She then set aside the physical properties of the objects and reached for the souls. The Runes pulled out the souls carefully, and aligned them neatly in front of Hermione. She counted them. One, two, three, four—she stopped, and gawked—five.

She looked around, and saw that Harry was surrounded by Runes. He was unconscious, and Hermione's wisps of magical energy inevitably coiled around Harry's magical core.

She gasped. Harry—he was a Horcrux as well! But then—another gasp form Hermione. Harry's unprotected by the Panacea and Dementor blood!

She quickly reached out with her ethereal magic before Harry's core imploded from the Runes. And as everything settled, and Voldemort's souls spun up and up, until they formed a single ball of light, Hermione held Harry's sleeping, changed body.

The merged soul pieces spun faster, and, if you would have blinked you would not have seen it zooming away so fast, through the tent and into the distance.

--

"You are dismissed," Voldemort hissed. After that meeting, the Death Eater's surely wouldn't be keen on eating death for a while. Crucio's everywhere, ligaments torn and bodies disassembled… and then quickly healed—why, Voldemort believed he had permanently traumatized his followers.

The Light was winning. The Veelas defeating the Vampires using their more powerful Allure was a clear indication. No matter the case, he knew he would get out of this mess alive. He had ensured his immortality through—he didn't even dare think what measures he had gone through to achieve that, for fear of somebody miraculously hearing his thoughts. That Potter brat, maybe. But he had impeccable Occlumency wards.

He was just very, very paranoid, but he wouldn't admit that to himself. Ever.

Yes, he was near immortal. Nothing could possibly rip him away from this plane of existence. He would first have to undergo such a painful, reversing process if it ever came to that—

A flash, and what seemed like an energy-based boulder hit him square in the chest.

He writhed in pain as something intangible tried to fit itself inside him, like a jigsaw puzzle that produced pain until finished. He was like a fish out of water, being subjected under electrocution, while the earth beneath his body quaked. It felt terribly, terribly _painful_.

And then, peace. He jolted to a halt as that something in his body aligned into stability once more. The pain subsided quickly afterwards, like he never experienced it at all.

He lay there for a minute or two, before burying his warm face into smooth, tanned hands. He stared dumbfounded at his now completely un-bony hands, before quickly standing up and running towards his full-body mirror.

And right there in Riddle Manor, in his private rooms, in front of the full-body mirror that had not complemented and wolf-whistled in decades, he saw the face of a handsome man in his mid-twenties, a firm jaw and Patrician nose, a confident stance, brownish hair falling neatly around the face an framing it aristocratically—yes, Voldemort gaped, in a very uncharacteristic way, at his own reflection, Tom Riddle.


End file.
